


Morning Drive, Morning Words

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: 1950s!stuck, 50s!stuck, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Cadillac cars, Cronus is really dumb for real, Cute babies, Dumb pet names, Kankri wears heels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1950s!Stuck, in which Kankri dresses himself as a girl and Cronus is under the assumption that he is one. Cronus picks up Kankri to drive him to school for the first time and shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Drive, Morning Words

**Author's Note:**

> Kankri; dresses like a girl and generally looks like one but doesn't really make any attempt to discern what gender he is.  
> Cronus; is under the assumption that Kankri is a girl, which was why he asked him out.

I’m surprised when instead of coming to the door to get me, you honk from the street in front of my house, one arm stretched over the back of the passenger seat. Signless gives me a knowing, irate look as I hook the strap of my messenger bag over my shoulder, kissing him on the cheek goodbye before walking off the stoop and down the hill that makes our front lawn to your car. 

You cast me a brilliant smile, crooked and lazy, and reach across the seat to push the passenger door open from the inside of the car. I catch it and place my bag on the floor, stepping into your car gingerly. It surprises me again when you reach across my lap to close the door, letting your hand linger on my knee before revving the engine aggressively and flooring it. 

I squeak as the Cadillac accelerates quickly, leaving rubber streaks on the street in front of my house. My hair whips back from my face and I gather it in my hands, holding my choppy bangs against my forehead. You smirk at me, your hair frozen in place by the sheer amount of grease in it. 

You slow to a stop at an intersection and ask, “So, how are you this morning, kitten?”

I blush and stare at the upholstery, then reply shyly, “I’m doing very good. And you?”

“Great, especially that I’m with you.” You toss me a smile, the sort that makes the cheerleaders melt and squeal in delight.

My blush intensifies furiously, and I cross my arms over my chest, blinking a little and shifting. “O-Oh. I’m glad to hear that.” I mumble, casting my eyes out over the dashboard. 

When we pull into school, I shoulder my bag and struggle to open the door, the lock catching. You reach past me, your arms braced around my waist, and slowly turn the handle, pushing the door open for me. I can feel your chest against my back, and I lick my lips and close my eyes, unsure of how to react. One hand ghosts over my hip as you pull away, swinging yourself out of the car and wandering over to tug my door open all the way. 

I step out of the car and hobble on my heels dangerously for a second, the steep slope you’ve parked on throwing me off balance. Suddenly, your hand is entangled with mine and you’re pulling me up against your chest, a devilish smirk on your face.

I feel the very tips of my ears grow hot, and I close my eyes, reaching up and fisting my hand in your jacket. You move closer, the door slamming, and suddenly, you’ve hoisted me up and sat me on the door, standing between my legs and kissing my neck. I squeak and slap at you, eyes wide, and slide down, legs wavering as I cling to you. 

“C-Cronus!” I snip, using your shoulders to keep myself upright before walking past you grumpily.

You laugh softly and take it all in stride, catching my hand again and walking with me. “So, babe.” You start as we head through the courtyard of the highschool.

“Yes? And please don’t refer to me as that. I find it degrading.” I reply, allowing you to clutch my hand.   
“I love you.” You murmur in your perfect warbling accent, the tone of your voice gentle as you caress the back of my hand with your thumb.

I take a deep breath, surprised and frankly floored by your audacity. We only have been dating for a little while, but in spite of my sense of logic-or lack thereof- I find myself looking up at you from beneath my lashes and whispering, “I love you, too.”

I don’t regret it at the sight of your much too perfect smile.


End file.
